


Domo Arigato, Mr Roboto

by amarielah



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Abuse of Angel Powers, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel powers as the plot demands, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Trapped in another world, not even remotely subtle drug abuse metaphors, other SW characters tba, suitless!vader, supernatural season 8, vader wants to kill everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8736268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarielah/pseuds/amarielah
Summary: When Sam and Dean investigate a spate of Vader sightings in a remote Wyoming town, they discover that -- this time -- they're hunting the real deal. Vader, meanwhile, has to adjust to a world that seems designed to piss him off. All while trying his best not to strangle the Winchesters.This is a complication that all three of them could've done without.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, one of my "Vader gets trapped in another world and restored by supernatural means to his body" plot bunnies is actually seeing the light of day.

"Dude, you're not gonna believe this one."

Dean looked up from his bacon and eggs, eyebrows raised.

"Remember that shifter a few years back, who took on the forms of classic movie monsters?"

Dean swallowed. "No way I'd forget that freak," he said.

"Well," said Sam, turning the laptop screen so that his brother could see it. "I think we may have another one. Several reports have been filed of Darth Vader sightings, all in the same town: Thermopolis, Wyoming."

Dean snorted. "Probably just some dude in a costume."

Sam shook his head. "That's what they all thought too, until they saw him cutting through things with a genuine lightsaber."

"So...a shifter who's some kind of genius engineer?"

Sam shrugged. "There have been reports of strange weather patterns and animals acting weird, too. Whatever's happening, it seems to be our kind of problem."

Dean nodded. "Then I guess we're going Vader hunting."

Sam thought it might be a good thing to take on a more normal kind of hunt. Get their minds off of demon tablets and the trials for a while. Or get Dean's mind off of it, at least. He'd been giving Sam worried looks ever since he'd learned about the first trial's effect on Sam, and he was getting antsy about Kevin translating the rest of the tablet. Not to mention the whole thing with Cas.

"Yup," he said, smiling. "Vader hunting."

* * *

 

Thermopolis was even more isolated than most of the small towns they visited, surrounded by pristine wilderness. It really wasn't the sort of place you'd expect to hear about people wielding working laser swords in perfect Darth Vader costumes.

They followed up on the people who had reported the sightings, and all of them pointed them in the direction of an abandoned old farmhouse on the outskirts of town.

The Vader lookalike was standing in broad daylight when they reached it.

Dean couldn't quite hide how impressed he was as he scanned the maybe-shifter's Vader. Sam would've shared the sentiment, if he didn't have the mental equivalent of a siren going off in his head.

You could almost say that he had a bad feeling about this.

"Dude," said Dean, grinning. "That is _awesome_. You've got the breathing down and everything. I'm almost sad that I've gotta gank you."

Sam inched forward, silver knife poised defensively. "Pretty stupid to walk around in broad daylight like that," he said. "You didn't think that hunters would catch up with you?"

The shifter - or whatever - crossed his arms. "You appear to be mistaken about my identity," he said, in a voice that didn't sound right at all.

It was deep, to be sure, but sounded nothing like James Earl Jones. Instead, it was genuinely artificial - like the maybe-shifter was speaking through a vocoder. Odd, considering how accurate every other part of the portrayal seemed to be.

With a jerk, the knife was ripped out of Sam's hand and flung hard to thunk into the wood of a nearby shed.

"But perhaps you may be of some use to me," said the Vader look-alike.

Who couldn't be a shifter, because shifters didn't _have_ telekinesis. Unless this one was...possessed?

Sam had never once encountered a demon possessing a monster. He wasn't even sure that they _could_.

But...the alternative was _insane_.

"No way," said Dean, having apparently reached the same conclusion.

The Vader look-alike reached out a hand, and Dean was suddenly dangling in the air, clutching at his throat. The cyborg had evidently taken Dean's expression of disbelief as a refusal to cooperate.

"It is unwise to defy me," said Vader. Because, holy shit, who else could it possibly be?

Deans eyes bugged out as his legs kicked helplessly in the air. The sight would've been funny if Sam hadn't been so terrified.

"W-wait!" said Sam, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "He didn't mean it that way! We'll answer whatever questions you have!"

Dean fell roughly to the ground, landing on his back with a painful-sounding thud. It took a few moments for him to get his breath back. "Holy _shit_ ," he said, wheezing, reaching up to massage his throat gingerly. "This is fuckin' crazy, even for us."

Letting out a breath that Sam hadn't even realized he'd been holding, he turned to Vader.

 _Darth_ Vader.

Jesus fucking _Christ_.

"You're...probably confused," said Sam. "About why you're suddenly in the middle of nowhere on a planet you've never heard of."

"How intuitive," Vader rumbled. "I require a means of contacting assistance. You will provide me with one."

Sam swallowed. "Um...I don't think we have anything that can help you with that."

"Yeah," said Dean. "We don't even have a space port or - whatever. The furthest we've ever gotten into space is our own moon."

"Impossible." The way Vader shifted gave Sam the impression that he was becoming agitated. Which was probably not good. "No planet so primitive and isolated could know who I am."

Sam's mind raced as he tried as he tried to come up with a plausible reason that didn't involve telling Vader that he was a fictional character. From the look of panic in Dean's eyes, he could tell that his brother was facing the same dilemma. How long before Vader figured it out on his own from reading their minds or something?

That was when Castiel appeared.

Dean let out a visible sigh of relief and finally got back on his feet. "Nice of you to finally show up," he said, unable to keep the note of hurt from his voice.

Castiel's eyes were fixed on Vader, his eyebrows drawing slowly into a frown. "This is Darth Vader," he said.

"Yup," said Dean.

"I was under the impression that he's a fictional character." He sounded mildly confused.

"So were we," said Sam.

"What?" said Vader.

"Guess the cat's outta the bag," said Dean. "Real subtle, Cas."

Castiel took a step towards the Sith Lord, who flinched away.

Sam couldn't be entirely sure, but there seemed to genuine fear in Vader's synthesized voice when he spoke again. "What _are_ you?" he asked Castiel.

"I am an angel of the Lord," said Castiel. He took another step towards the Sith Lord, and Vader's legs buckled, sending him tumbling gracelessly to the ground.

"That's new," said Dean, sounding impressed. To Vader: "He means the kind from heaven, by the way, not the kind from the moons of Diego."

"Iego," Sam corrected.

"Nerd," said Dean.

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "It would appear that my proximity interferes with his powers." He closed the rest of the distance between himself and Vader, crouching down beside him. "His presence here is worrisome. It must've taken immense power to transport him from so far away."

Sam scoffed. "Seems a bit ridiculous to go to the trouble. What could - whatever it was - be trying to achieve?"

"I'm uncertain," said Castiel. "But I fear we may have to take the time to found out."

Vader was trying to push himself to his feet again, with obvious difficultly. Sam wondered just how much he relied on his powers, that he needed them even to stand.

Maybe it was all mental, though. The dude was the Force's Jesus baby, after all. Might've been like suddenly losing his primary senses all at once.

Castiel's frown deepened. "He'll be cumbersome like this." Reaching out, he placed a hand on the top of Vader's helmet.

There was a flash of brilliant light, and then there was a naked man sprawled out on the ground in Vader's place. He had a handsome face, offset somewhat by a head that was completely bald, no eyebrows, and skin that was deathly pale. Blue eyes swiveled wildly in panic.

"Darth Powder over there is gonna still attract a ton of attention," said Dean.

"Sorry," said Castiel. In the blink of an eye, Vader was fully clothed and had a short crop of dark blond hair. Also, eyebrows.

The man did bear something of a resemblance to Hayden Christensen, Sam supposed, but mostly in coloring and build. Which was good, since the last thing they needed was some evil celebrity look-alike choking fangirls to death for bothering him.

Vader got shakily to his feet, staring down at his hands like they were going to spontaneously detach themselves from his body. He swore in a language that Sam guessed was Huttese. Castiel stood as well.

After a few moments of Vader regaining bearings, he finally said: "How in the _hell_?"

Dean cocked a brow. "Welcome to Earth," he said.

Vader looked at him with an expression that promised future murder.

"Don't harm Sam or Dean," said Castiel, "You'll regret it if you do."

With that, he was gone.

" _He_ was in a hurry," Sam remarked.

Dean made a face. "Dude, I don't even know where to start with Cas."

Sam looked at Vader and cleared his throat. "So, uh, I guess you should come with us? We can help you figure out what brought you here, and maybe how to get you back to...wherever the hell it is that you came from."

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away," said Dean, sounding a little dazed.

Vader, for his part, looked pretty dazed himself. "Time travel isn't possible," he said.

Sam guessed that he'd looked into it a few times, given Vader's litany of terrible life decisions. "It is, actually," he said. "But you usually need an angel for it."

Vader actually chuckled at that. The sound was a tad hysterical. "Of course," he said. "An angel. Why not."

"So, we done here, or what?" asked Dean.

"I think so," Sam replied.

They walked to the car, Vader following them without having to be asked. He didn't look enthused by any of the cars they saw as they passed, let alone the Impala.

"Your speeders are archaic," he said, glaring at the Impala like it had just insulted him.

"Not speeders," said Dean. "Cars. And don't you look down on my baby."

Vader rolled his eyes without replying, then opened the door of the back seat to get inside. Sam was thankful that he didn't seem keen on driving.

That was a Force choke just waiting to happen.

The rise home was one of the most awkward experiences Sam had ever had in his life. He tried to start a conversation a couple of times, only to have Vader pointedly ignore him. Eventually, Dean said, "Give it a rest, Sammy. Princess Vader obviously ain't in a chatty mood."

Sam's heart leaped into his throat, half expecting Dean to start choking and crash the car. But, if Vader had heard them, he was apparently willing to let the insult slide.

They couldn't get there fast enough.

* * *

 

When they finally did arrive back at the bunker, Vader still didn't say anything, just sitting at one of the tables in the center of the compound with his eyes closed. Sam figured he was meditating, or whatever the Sith equivalent of it was.

Dean had gone off to do something in his room while Sam researched for his next trial. But after about an hour, the silence from their guest was starting to make him nervous.

He cleared his throat, putting down the archive he was reading. "You, uh, want something to eat?"

Vader didn't respond.

"Or something to drink? I was planning on making myself some coffee."

Vader opened his eyes. They were a sickly shade of gold which reminded Sam uncomfortably of Azazel. "Will you stop bothering me if I say yes?"

What a ray of sunshine. "When was the last time you had an actual human conversation that didn't end with you killing somebody?" he asked.

The glare he received was as telling as any verbal answer.

"I don't know how you were kept alive in your suit," he continued, "but you're gonna have to eat and drink at some point."

As if on cue, Vader's stomach made a rather interesting noise. Vader put one hand over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his pale cheeks coloring slightly. "Just...show me where you keep your supplies."

Sam couldn't help but smirk a little as he lead Vader to the kitchen. He gestured to the fridge. "This is where we keep perishable stuff. There's some soda and beer, as well." He pointed to the pantry. "And that's where we keep everything else. I think the microwave and stove are pretty self-explanatory - way less complicated than a pod racer."

He turned to leave Vader to it, only to have Vader say, "Wait."

Sam turned around again, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"How much do you know?" he asked, looking very unhappy.

"About you?" said Sam. "Probably not everything, but...way more than you want me to."

Sam could tell that Vader really wanted him dead, but Cas had obviously put the fear of God in the Sith Lord. So, instead, Vader said: "There is darkness in you, Sam Winchester. You can't run from it forever."

At first, Sam was surprised. He hadn't told Vader his name yet, after all. But it's not like it was news to him that Vader was psychic, and after all the demons he'd dealt with over the years - not to mention _Lucifer_ \- Vader's attempts at goading him were just _cute_. "No wonder everybody keeps turning you down, dude," he said, trying hard to keep from smiling. "Um, anyway - enjoy your meal. I'll be at the table if you need any help."

He didn't wait around to see Vader's reaction; he was pretty sure that would be tempting fate.

* * *

 

Vader rejoined him at the table several minutes later, carrying a plate of steaming, crispy bratwurst and a cup of coffee. He'd figured out the stove, apparently.

"Those go well with mustard," said Sam, as Vader speared one of the sausages with a fork. "That's the stuff in the yellow bottle in the fridge."

Ignoring him, Vader took a bite, and spent an inordinately long time chewing. After he finally swallowed, he put the fork down, rested his elbows on the table, and put his forehead in his hands.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Uh...you okay, dude?"

Vader let out a long breath through his nose. "I'm fine," he said. His voice sounded a little shaky.

"It's okay to be overwhelmed," said Sam, trying to sound understanding. "You haven't eaten real food in a long time, right? You should've seen Dean when he got back from Hell."

Vader sank his face further into his hands.

Sam stood up. "You know what? I'll just...go...and you can do...whatever it is that you need to do."

He left Darth Vader to his bratwurst.

* * *

 

There were a lot of things Vader had come to appreciate about his suit over the years. It gave him strength and endurance; it freed him from the cravings of physical existence; it isolated him from other sentients, strengthening his connection to the Force.

But now that he had found himself so suddenly without it, he could at the very least appreciate the fact that real food was _heavenly_. He took another bite of the sausage, its juices coating his tongue with salt and fat and spices, and it took all of his willpower to repress a moan. It was no small consolation, given the utter humiliation he'd experienced in the past few hours.

He took a sip from the cup of caf. It could use some sweetening, but it was still a delight to his senses.

Winchester had left, thankfully, allowing Vader better gather his thoughts. The young man's presence was...unsettling. Even now, further distant, it was like an itch - a shadow in the periphery of Vader's senses.

It had been Sam's presence that had drawn him out of his temporary shelter, simply too disturbing to ignore. A decision that he had swiftly come to regret.

And the little he'd been able to glean from Winchester's mind had left him only more confused.

He had never thought he'd face a situation more baffling than even Mortis. And yet, here he sat, restored by a mysterious being who burned with a power that seemed to encompass every aspect of the Force - and beyond. Then there had been Sam Winchester's mind, with its shadowed corners of screaming agony and inhuman hunger. Vader had dared not enter those parts of his mind, sensing that it would show him things he would later wish he hadn't seen.

It was no small feat, to make a Sith Lord turn away from the possibility of arcane knowledge.

What he _had_ managed to learn had been of little help. He was on a planet called Earth: a technologically and culturally primitive backwater with access only to its own orbit and moon - and barely even that. Sam thought that Vader probably came from another dimension entirely, given the fact that, in this world, Vader's life was documented in a series of holonovels. Or whatever the equivalent of them were on this planet.

He would've had trouble believing it, if not for Sam Winchester's offhand comment about pod racers. Or the name _Anakin_ _Skywalker_ bouncing around in his mind.

To have _that damn name_ known by so many millions of strangers was at once surreal and unbearable.

Pushing those thoughts aside for the moment, he focused once again on the delicious tubes of meat that sat before him. It wouldn't make up for having to see _that damn face_ in every reflective surface, but it was still...pleasant, to eat properly again.

"Those go well with mustard." It was Dean Winchester, the older of the brothers. "Do they have mustard where you come from? It's the yellow stuff in the fridge."

Vader rolled his eyes. "So I've been told," he said flatly. This one lacked the uncomfortable presence of his younger sibling, but would probably prove to be far more obnoxious in every other way.

Dean pulled out a chair and sat, affecting a casual pose. "So when exactly do you come from, anyway?" He titled his head as he summed Vader up with his eyes. "You look closer to 40 than 20, so I'm thinkin' it's after the Death Star went kaboom."

"I fail to see why it matters," he snapped. It took a considerable amount of his restraint not to reach out with the Force to choke the insufferable look off Dean's face.

Dean shrugged. If he sensed the extent of Vader's hostility, he was unconcerned. "Wouldn't wanna spoil you, is all. Do you know yet that the guy who blew up the Death Star is your son?"

The man's demeanor reminded Vader, absurdly, of Aphra. It really wasn't helping matters. Vader didn't bother with a denial, but couldn't quite bring himself to confirm it.

"So that's a yes," said Dean, smirking. "Man, it must really stick in your craw that you can't kill me without Cas smiting your ass." The smirk widened into a grin. "Gotta say: you're way more intimidating on-screen. Especially now that you got the whole prettyboy thing going on again."

Vader let his eating utensils fall to his plate with a clatter. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish with this little performance?"

The grin fell away. "My job is to kill monsters. I guess I'm trying to figure out if you're even still human." His mouth twisted in disgust. "The last time I saw eyes like yours, it was on a demon."

"Ah yes," said Vader, scoffing. "You and your brother imagine yourselves to be heroes. Champions of the helpless." He pushed through his distaste for _that damn name_ in order to deliver the finishing blow: "Anakin Skywalker thought that once, as well."

He could sense that his barb had landed, though Winchester hid it well. "Only crazy people talk about themselves in the third person, dude."

"Are you quite done?" asked Vader.

Dean stood up. "Guess I am," he said. "Set yourself up in one of the spare rooms if you want, and bug Sammy if you have any questions. We'll decide tomorrow what the hell we're supposed to do with you."

Vader scowled, but didn't voice his objection. There were dangers on this world that he did not yet know how to face alone. As much as it chafed to admit it, he was indeed at the mercy of these "hunters" and their pet "angel".

At least for the time being.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters try to figure out how to proceed.

When Dean woke up the next day, he spent a few minutes debating if the events of the previous day had all been some vivid dream.

It was a testament to just how weird it was; Dean hadn't felt like this since the shit that went down with fairies.

He eventually decided that it wasn't a regular dream - but he was still open to the possibility that some rogue angel was pulling a fast one on them, ala Zachariah or Gabriel. That might actually be better than all of it being real.

The novelty of dealing with a legendary badass had worn off pretty quickly. He and Sam had more important things to do than babysit some sulky, superpowered monster with mommy issues.

"We'd be better off with Jar Jar," he muttered, rolling out of bed.

Once he was dressed, he pulled some of his least favorite items of clothing out of his closet to give to Darth Whiny Bitch. They were about the same height, so they'd fit him better than Sammy's stuff would.

Because that's what his life had come to, now: lending clothes to mass-murdering assholes who shouldn't exist.

Of fucking course.

Sam was already doing his nerd thing when Dean entered the central chamber. "Where's Vader?"

Sam jerked his head in the direction of the telescope, and Dean turned around to see Vader squatting in front of an electrical panel, fiddling with some of its wires.

"I think he's been at it all night," said Sam, turning a page of whatever-the-fuck he was reading.

Dean stomped over to the Sith Lord and dumped the pile of clothes next to him. The ones that Cas had conjured for him were already covered with oil and other miscellaneous dirt. "Have a damn shower," he said. "The last thing we need is the base being stunk up with Sith BO."

Vader ignored him.

Dean stomped back to Sam. "We need to talk," he said to his brother.

Sighing, Sam pushed the book away. "Yeah. We do."

* * *

They ended up in Sam's room.

"So who do you think's gonna show up next?" said Dean. They were each sitting on one of the room's twin beds, facing each other. "The Joker? Doctor Doom?"

"This does open up a lot of possibilities," said Sam, trying to keep his tone light. "I mean, stories are their own kind of lore, in a way, And this isn't the first time we've seen something like this happen." It had happened to _them_ , after all.

Dean's eyebrows went up. "You don't think George Lucas is a prophet, do you?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Cas already told us that there can only be one prophet at a time. Not only is Lucas alive, but he wasn't on Cas' list of potentials."

Scratching behind an ear, Dean said, "I guess it doesn't really matter." He let out a frustrated breath. "What the hell are we supposed to do with Evil Space Jesus, Sam?"

Sam's eyebrows creased in thought. "I guess...we could just leave him here while we figure things out."

Dean snorted. "Oh sure. I bet he'll really _love_ being put on house arrest."

"I'm not sure what other options we have, dude. Do you think he'd be willing to help us hunt? It's not like we can just let him run amok outside."

"I wouldn't trust him on a hunt," Dean admitted, "Hell, I'm not sure that we shouldn't be hunting _him_."

"He's still human, Dean." Sam looked uncomfortable. "Plus, he's a neutral party. His beef in his own world is political. It's not like he could add Earth to his Empire, even if he wanted to."

Dean picked up his beer and took a long swig, then said, "If even a bit of what he did in the movies is true, we'd be doing everyone a favor by ganking him."

"Maybe," said Sam. "But I'm just not sure that's our call to make, Dean."

"...We're 100% sure Gabriel's dead, right?"

Sam let out a sigh. "This _is_ the kind of stunt he'd pull to mess with us," he conceded. "But...Lucifer doesn't like to leave loose ends."

"Who's Lucifer?"

Both of the Winchesters' heads snapped around to the side to see Vader standing in the doorway. He was wearing some of the clothes than Dean had given him; the flannels didn't suit him at all,.

"Do they not have knocking in your galaxy?" asked Dean, standing up and crossing his arms.

Vader rolled his eyes. Sam noticed that he did that a lot. "I don't need an invitation to my own trial."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "You're not on trial."

"So you weren't deciding on whether or not to kill me?" he asked, crossing his arms to match Dean.

"Mostly not," said Dean. "But sure, I brought it up. I told you already - our job is hunting monsters. And I think you fit the bill."

Sam finally stood as well, holding up his hands. "We're not gonna kill you, though. Dean's just been a bit trigger-happy since he got back from Purgatory."

Dean shot him an incredulous look. "So what - we're telling the Sith Lord our life story now?"

With a shrug, Sam said, "We know a ton about _him_. It's only fair that he knows a little about us."

That earned a snort from Vader. "Your brother's naive," he said to Dean.

Dean made a 'no duh' expression, "See, Sammy? Even Vader thinks you're being stupid."

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Listen: can we all just - sit down and talk like adults?"

Dean sat again, then looked expectantly at Vader. With another roll of his eyes, Vader used the Force to pull up a chair for himself.

"You asked who Lucifer is," Sam began, lacing his fingers together. "Well, you know how Castiel is an angel? Lucifer's one, too."

"Only evil," added Dean, helpfully. "I mean, full disclosure: most angels are huge dicks. Lucifer's just the dickiest of all."

"Like, 'destroy all of humanity' dickish," said Sam. "Also, he's way more powerful than regular angels."

Vader gazed at Sam for longer than was comfortable, his golden eyes intense and unblinking. Sam was pretty sure that meant Vader was digging around in his head.

Creepy.

Awkwardly, Sam asked, "Do they have the concept of celestial angels where you come from? Or demons?"

"More or less," said Vader, finally blinking. "When you speak about 'Hell' and 'Purgatory', am I to take them literally?"

"Yup," said Dean. "Heaven for decent people; Hell for bad people; Purgatory for monsters." His mouth thinned. "Hell is basically what happened to you on that lava planet when Obi-Wan kicked your ass, only all day, every day, for thousands of years."

Sam glared at Dean. Was he actively _trying_ to get Vader to kill him? Vader's hands had clenched into fists, and Sam was pretty sure he heard the walls creak dangerously.

Dean sneered and shook his head. "You see that, Sammy? The guy's a fuckin' powder-keg. You think he'd be able to keep his cool fighting demons? They know as much as we do, only they can out-mojo him easy."

Oh. So that had been Dean's play.

He had a point.

"What makes you think that I have any desire to help you?" asked Vader, voice low and menacing.

Dean smirked. "He thinks it's a bad idea, too."

With a sigh, Sam said, "Then I guess he stays."

Vader stood up, glaring down at both of them with intense malice. "You can't hold me here."

"You're right," agreed Sam. "But if you decide to leave, you're on your own. No army, no allies, and no clue where to start looking." He raised an eyebrow. "And you'll probably be hunted down by whatever it is that brought you here."

Vader's nostrils flared in rage. "I could simply force you to comply," he said.

"Not really," said Dean. "I don't think you've forgotten about our good pal Castiel." He grinned. "Face it: you're stuck with us, Skywalker."

Vader turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

"That went well," said Sam dryly.

Dean snorted. "This is the dude who thought that cutting off his son's hand would make him want some father-son bonding time, Sammy. Don't expect _anything_ to go well with him."

"You're right," Sam admitted. "But you should still lay off on taunting him so much. I don't think he's super great with the self control."

"We've taken down things way bigger and meaner than him."

"Yeah. But none of _them_ were living with us."

The look Dean gave him wasn't reassuring at all.

* * *

Sam gave Vader about an hour to cool down before he went to speak with him. The Sith Lord had moved on to the comm room, and was in the middle of taking apart a telegraph machine.

"That's outdated technology, even by our standards."

Vader didn't look up. "Spare me the pleasantries and get to the point," he said.

So much for stalling. "We need to talk about who might've brought you here."

That must've been on Vader's mind too, because he actually set the machine down. "I doubt I have anything of value to tell you," he said, standing.

"That might be true, but you're the most logical place to start."

Vader gazed at Sam for a few moments. Feeling awkward, Sam crossed his arms over his chest. Finally, Vader said, "Very well."

Sam couldn't decide if he felt more awkward or relieved as he and the Sith Lord made their way to the dining tables.

Once both of them were seated, Sam pulled up a pad of paper and a pen. The first question to ask was obvious. "So...have you messed with any powerful supernatural beings?".

Vader's face took on a constipated expression. "I've killed some," he admitted. Sam gave him an expectant look, and Vader let out a frustrated sigh. "It was during the Clone Wars; I was summoned to a Force nexus by three beings who had powers I'd never seen before. I killed two of them and escaped."

"What kind of powers?" Sam pressed.

This was obviously something Vader didn't want to talk about. "Transformation, mind control, telekinesis - among others. They could deactivate our lightsabers with a thought."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "'Our'?"

After a pregnant pause, Vader admitted: "I wasn't there alone."

"Okay," said Sam. This was probably the part Vader didn't want to talk about. Well, he'd have to suck it up. "So...who else was there?"

If looks could kill. "Why is it relevant?"

Sam tried to look apologetic. "It may not be," he said. "But I can't know unless you tell me."

Reluctantly, Vader said, "Kenobi and Skywalker's apprentice were also there."

That took a moment to sink in. "You had a padawan?"

"I suppose they left that part out of the holonovels," said Vader, frowning.

"...We call them 'movies'. We don't really have real holograms yet." It seemed like a silly thing to say, in retrospect. "But yeah, the movies kinda glossed over most of the Clone Wars. We just got to see the very beginning and the very end."

"That would explain it," said Vader dryly.

Sam knew it probably wasn't a smart move to ask, but he couldn't resist. "What was his name?"

Vader's glare intensified. "It's of no concern to you."

Okay then. Moving on. "Right. So, uh, how did you kill these things?"

Vader visibly relaxed. "The only means of killing them was a dagger which was apparently created for the task."

"You don't say," said Sam, feeling like they were finally getting somewhere. "It actually works that way for angels, too. Maybe there's a connection."

He could tell from the look on Vader's face that the prospect didn't please him. "They didn't interfere with my powers the way that angels do," said Vader, after a long pause. "Besides: they're dead. I watched them die with my own eyes."

With a sigh, Sam said, "Unfortunately, death doesn't always mean that much."

Vader looked as though he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Sam wondered if it had something to do with Obi-Wan being a Force ghost. Did Vader even know about that?

"Anyway," said Sam, cutting through the increasingly awkward silence. "If you could draw me a picture of what the dagger looked like, that would be a good place to start." He reached for a blank piece of paper and pencil, handing them to the older man.

Vader took the proffered materials with only minimal hesitation, looking down at them with distaste.

"Too primitive for you?" asked Sam, smiling crookedly.

Vader picked up the pencil and began to sketch something on the paper. "They'll do."

Sam stood. "I'm gonna make some coffee. You want some?"

"Yes," said Vader, not looking up from the paper. "With some kind of sweetener, if you have it."

Sam blinked in surprise. He'd been expecting another display of stubbornness, like the day before. "Sure thing. We have milk too, if you like."

Vader shook his head. "Just the sweetener is fine."

The Sith Lord was displaying the bare minimum of common courtesy. Sam considered that a pretty big step.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," said Sam, and left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam strikes up a tenuous rapport with Vader.

Of all the things Vader had anticipated doing in the near future, sketching mystical weapons for a self-proclaimed monster hunter hadn't been one of them. Sketching had been one of Anakin Skywalker's hobbies, after all. The reminder was one that Vader could've done without.

The flashes of old memories from Mortis - of watching Ahsoka die, only to channel the fading lifeforce of a god to save her - were equally unwelcome. Because they inevitably led his thoughts to the time he'd abandoned Ahsoka to the ravages of Malachor, only to stab her through the heart not long afterward.

It wasn't a victory he relished - a douse on his anger rather than a fuel. His master had commented more than once upon his weakness in the matter.

_"You have proven your commitment to the Dark Side, Lord Vader. Must you cloud your triumph with these petty regrets?"_

His Master had been right, of course. And yet, a triumph had never felt so much like abject failure.

"You okay?" It was Sam, holding a steaming mug of caf in each oversized hand.

Vader wished that he still had his mask. "I'm fine," he snapped, then barely resisted cringing at how petulant he sounded.

He wouldn't be opposed to having his vocoder back, either.

Sam placed a mug down in front of him, raising a single brow. "If you say so, dude."

"Here," said Vader, handing the finished sketch to Sam.

It didn't help that Sam's mere presence put him on edge. It was just...wrong, in a way that Vader found difficult to describe. It wasn't the Dark Side; it was something antithetical to the Force entirely.

Sam took the paper and looked at the sketch. "Thanks. This could be really helpful."

"Are we done?" asked Vader, glancing at his caf. He wanted to be alone so could enjoy it properly.

"I guess so." Sam looked like he was going to make his exit, but he hesitated. "Do you wanna go outside at all? I can show you around the area, in case you need something while me and Dean are gone."

Vader narrowed his eyes. "Interesting you should offer. You're certain I won't murder everyone in sight?"

"You're not actually a demon," said Sam. "And you've somehow managed not to kill Dean yet." A crooked smile. "So I'm guessing random murder isn't on your agenda. I mean, literally no-one on this planet is a Jedi or a Rebel."

Vader felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. "Your faith in me is touching," he said, dryly.

Sam actually grinned. "Let it never be said that I have a disturbing _lack_ of faith."

The words niggled at Vader, but he couldn't be bothered to figure out why. "I _would_ like to familiarize myself with my surroundings," he said. "So I'll take you up on your offer."

"Great!" Sam seemed genuinely pleased. "Just come and find me when you'd like to go. I'll probably need a break, anyway."

Sam stopped by some file cabinets and withdrew a stack of paper folders. Vader still found himself taken-aback by how primitive this planet was. Even with communication devices that appeared to be similar to datapads, they kept so much information in a flammable, fragile form. Utterly baffling.

That did raise the question, though: "Do you have some kind of communication network on this planet?" he asked.

"We do," Sam replied, shuffling through the folders. "It's called the internet. We can access it from computers."

"May I use one of these computers?" Vader was used to giving commands; the request felt awkward on his tongue.

He could sense that Sam was ambivalent on the matter, yet he still said, "Sure. I'll give you one of my spare laptops." He frowned, set the folders on the table, picked one up, and showed its contents to Vader. "Do you recognize this alphabet?"

Vader scanned the document, but found it incomprehensible. "I don't."

Sam sighed and returned the folder to its brethren. "I'll figure something out. Just give me a few minutes."

He left his folders and exited the dining area, only to return in short order with a folded plastic device and yet another piece of paper. He set them both in front of Vader, grazing the full cup of caf, which Vader steadied instinctively with the Force.

Vader picked up the paper first, since it was on top, and found that it was a guide for matching aurebesh with the alphabet Sam had showed him. It even accounted for punctuation.

"This will prove helpful," Vader admitted.

Sam opened the device to reveal a screen and keyboard - a familiar if clunky design. "This is how you turn it on," he said, pressing a button with a circular symbol. The screen lit up. He then lifted the cable protruding from its side and plugged it into what must've been an electrical outlet.

With that done, Sam opened one of the applications. "This is an internet browser. You can type search terms into the bar on top to help you navigate." Pulling back, he said, "The rest is pretty straight-forward. It's probably not too different to whatever you have in your world, minus holograms."

It _was_ all very straight-forward, but Sam had no doubt saved him a great deal of time. Nevermind lending him the device in the first place.

"Thank you," said Vader, awkwardly. It had been a long time since he'd felt anything resembling gratitude, let alone felt the need to express it.

Sam looked surprised. "It's no problem," he said, then paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "Listen: if our situations were reversed, there's no doubt that I'd be your enemy. I think your Empire is evil, and I'd want to see it burn to the ground."

That was no secret. Under ordinary circumstances, the Winchesters would already be long dead by his hand.

Sam continued, "But, the thing is, you ended up _here -_ and that means that we're on the same side." A sardonic smile. "Unless you actually _want_ all of humanity being destroyed to make way for literal Hell on Earth?"

"It's not one of my objectives," Vader admitted. "But the fate of this planet is none of my concern."

That earned him another grin. "It is while you're stuck here, dude."

...He had a point.

"I guess what I'm trying to say that you can relax a little. Once Dean sees that you're not out to steal souls or eat people, he'll probably relax too."

Vader raised an eyebrow. "That's what these monsters of yours do?"

With a nod, Sam said, "Yeah. That's why we hunt them."

"Fair enough," Vader conceded. Indeed, if such creatures existed in his own world, he would exterminate them posthaste.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Anyway, I'll leave you alone now. Thanks for not choking me."

As the younger man walked away, Vader couldn't shake the impression that his shoulders were impressively broad.

* * *

Sam popped back into his room to set the folders on the bed. Then, grabbing his regular laptop, decided to share his new intelligence with his brother.

Dean was sitting on his bed, back against the headboard, flipping through channels on TV. He must've been avoiding the central chamber.

"Any leads?" he asked Sam, turning the television off. "I could do with getting some air."

"On a new hunt? No." Sam sat on the empty bed and opened the laptop. "But I did get Vader to tell me some important details. Like the fact that he used a dagger to kill some powerful supernatural creatures when he was younger." He booted it up. "And the fact that Anakin Skywalker had a padawan."

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward. "Who in their right mind would've given that whiny little bitch a kid to take care of?"

Opening Google, Sam typed in 'anakin padawan', and was greeted with several articles detailing an interview with some dude named Dave Filoni. "So get this," he said to Dean. "There was an animated series about the Clone Wars in production, slated to air in 2008, but it never got released. The head of the project said that Lucas had planned to include a padawan character for Anakin Skywalker."

"Huh," said Dean. "Any reason why it got canceled?"

"It doesn't say." He did another search. "But some of the fan forums think it was a conspiracy by TV executives with a grudge against Lucas."

"Sounds like bullshit."

"Yeah," said Sam. "TV shows - even ones by popular creators - get cancelled all the time. They probably just thought it wouldn't sell enough toys or something."

With a slight frown, Dean said, "Not that this ain't fascinating, Sammy - but why do you think his padawhatsit is 'important information'?"

That gave Sam pause. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I guess it's just a hunch."

"What about that dagger?"

"He drew me a picture. I'm about to go cross-reference it with the Men of Letters' files."

Dean raised a brow. "You got Darth Vader to draw you a picture?"

Sam shrugged. "It's a weapon, not a landscape." He debated whether or not to tell Dean about his other plans, but decided to get it over with. "Speaking of landscapes...I've offered to take him outside - to get a feel for the place."

Pulling a face, Dean said, "Okay. Why?"

"Because a stir-crazy Sith Lord is the last thing we need to deal with."

"Right." Dean didn't look convinced. "Do what you want, Sam. I'm gonna give Kevin a call."

Sam left him to it.

* * *

Dean wasn't avoiding Vader.

He knew that's what Sammy probably thought, but it wasn't true. Okay, yeah, his yellow eyes were fucking creepy, and just seeing him somehow managed to piss Dean off, but he wasn't _avoiding_ him.

It was with this in mind that he made a point of going to the central chamber after he'd finished checking in with Kevin. Who sounded fucking terrible and had no progress to report, so that put Dean in a pretty shitty mood.

He was also hungry as fuck, so seeing that Sammy had given Dark Lord Asshole a laptop was just the turd on top of the shit sundae.

Feeling spiteful, Dean said, "Whatever you do, don't look up '2 girls 1 cup'."

Vader didn't acknowledge that Dean was even there.

Dean walked to the kitchen.

Then, while he was busy making himself a sandwich, he heard Vader let out a disgusted sound. Proof positive that reverse psychology worked, even on Sith Lords.

Defiantly, he sat right across from Vader to eat. "I told you not to search for it, man," he said after swallowing his first bite. "You gotta learn to trust people more."

Vader glared at him.

"I can see Sammy's been giving you the star treatment." He jerked his head at the laptop. "Just a heads up: most of the internet is porn."

With an eyeroll, Vader said, "I've noticed." He returned his attention to the screen. "I can see that some things are constant in every galaxy."

"So _holoporn_ is a thing where you come from?" asked Dean, surprised and more than a little titillated.

Vader didn't reply, which Dean took to mean that, yes, holoporn was indeed a thing where Vader came from. Fucking _awesome_.

It was with that happy thought that he finished off his sandwich.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Psychic dreams are a bitch.

Vader caught Sam as he was walking to the kitchen, saying, "I wish to collect on what we discussed earlier."

"Sure thing," Sam replied. "Let me just grab a sandwich first."

He decided to put said sandwich - mozzarella with pesto and sliced cherry tomatoes on whole-grain artisan bread - in some Saran wrap. The weather was nice and it was getting close to sunset, after all.

He then led Vader up the bunker stairs and out into the fresh air.

It really was a beautiful day. The air smelled of wet earth and vegetation, and the breeze that blew by was pleasantly cool without being chilly. He walked up the slope by the bunker entrance and up into the woods.

"This is a pretty heavily forested area," Sam explained, as they moved deeper into the trees. "But the planet in general is ecologically diverse. Desert to the west, grassland to the east, and arctic conditions a bit further north."

"We're on the continent named 'America', correct?" asked Vader.

"Yup." They broke through the trees to another slope - this one leading down onto a freeway. "If you follow this road in either direction, you'll get to a town within about half an hour to forty-five minutes. But they're small. We're pretty isolated out here."

"Having a base of this kind would be pointless if you weren't," Vader noted dryly.

"True," Sam responded, then sat down on the soil and opened the plastic on his sandwich. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon.

Vader sat as well, looking out into the distance. After a minute or two of silence, he said, "Yellow dwarf, like the Alderaan system. Much of this planet must be ideal for agriculture."

Sam swallowed his bite of sandwich. "Pretty sure we're too far from your empire to be conquered."

Vader snorted. "I wouldn't bother to conquer this planet. At most, I'd use it as temporary outpost to grow components for rations."

"That's reassuring, I guess." Sam held out the sandwich to him. "Want a bite?"

Vader looked as though he was seriously torn by the question. After a moment of deliberation, he said, "Very well," and took the sandwich gingerly.

Vader closed his eyes as he chewed, a look of ecstasy passing over his face. Sam couldn't repress a grin. "You can finish it, if you like."

Vader swallowed, then said, "This is...cheese?"

"Yeah. From an animal called a cow." His grin widened a little. "Their milk is white, though - not blue."

Vader grimaced. "Bantha milk is much less pleasant than this. Gamier."

With a chuckle, Sam said, "Man, this is surreal. Even for me." He wondered what would happen if they ran into any Star Wars fangirls in the vein Becky Rosen. Watching Vader deal with an anakinlicker81 would offer a lot of schadenfreude, if nothing else.

Vader didn't respond, having taken up Sam on his offer to finish the sandwich. He was thoroughly absorbed in the task.

Sam breathed in deeply through his nose, taking in the smell of nature, and waited for him to finish.

* * *

_He's in Padme's old apartment._

_Beside him, Padme snuggles into his side, and he slips his arm around her to pull her in closer._

_"This is nice," she says. "We don't do this enough."_

_"Yeah," he agrees, a smile tugging at his lips. "We really don't."_

_Suddenly, the apartment goes dark, and there's a rumble of thunder from outside. He feels his stomach drop, dread coursing through his veins._

_Padme's gone from his side, and the apartment is replaced by the Jedi Council chamber. Except...no._

_It's the Emperor's throne room, now._

_And then he looks up, and Padme is on the ceiling, screaming soundlessly as blood drips from her belly and flames engulf her. From behind him, he hears a chuckle, and he turns to see Sidious._

_His Master grins at him with sickly yellow eyes, his teeth incongruously white, and says, "You always were my favorite, Ani."_

Vader awoke with a violent lurch forward, heart pounding and sheets soaked through with sweat. Desperately, he reached out to the Dark Side in order to regain his bearings, but found himself unable to channel his terror into anger or hate. He _craved_ the darkness, and yet it was beyond his reach.

He began to shiver violently, bile rising to the back of his throat.

This wasn't him, he knew, as the twisted _wrongness_ of Sam Winchester's presence consumed his senses - cloying like smoke. It was psychic bleedover; these were Sam's thoughts and feelings. Sam's nightmares.

Sam's _hunger_.

He flung his sheets aside and stumbled out of the bedroom, desperately thirsty. When he reached the lavatory, he gulped down mouthfuls of water by sticking his mouth under the faucet, not caring for his dignity. He then splashed several handfuls of water on his face.

Sam's feelings were starting to fade at last, but Vader knew he would find no more sleep that night. He went to the central chamber instead of returning to the bedroom.

Sam was there, holding a mug of something that smelled sweet, his face pale and drawn. He frowned when he caught sight of Vader.

"You okay, dude?"

Vader almost forgot himself and choked him. "I thought it was your brother's job to be obnoxious."

Sam blinked. "Um...sorry? I wasn't trying to be."

Vader sensed, then, that Sam was genuinely perplexed, and his rage receded slightly. "So you weren't aware that you projected your dreams into my mind?"

Sam's face became even more drawn, and he set his mug down to bury his forehead in his right hand. "Jesus Christ."

Though unfamiliar with the deity being invoked, Vader knew the tone Sam was using all too well. Calming still further, he took a seat across from the younger man.

"I haven't been around other psychics in years," said Sam, looking up again. "I had no idea that I could even do something like that. It really wasn't intentional."

Vader decided that now was a good a time as any to ask the question that had been niggling at him since he'd arrived in this world. "What _are_ you?"

Time to see if Sam's claims to openness were more than just platitudes.

Sam chuckled, a bitter smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "It's kinda complicated, but...I guess you could say that I'm the Antichrist."

"I have no idea what that term refers to."

A sigh. "Yeah, I should've figured." Sam took a sip from his mug. "Um...you know how you were supposedly the 'Chosen One', destined to bring 'bring balance to the Force'?"

Vader swallowed down the instinctive surge of rage at the reminder.

"Well, the Antichrist is basically the opposite of that. Destined to bring chaos and suffering." He ran a hand through his hair. That was a habit of his, Vader had noticed. "I was fed demon blood as a baby, when a demon named Azazel murdered my mother. As I got older, I...started to get powers. A lot like yours, actually. But they came at a price." Another sip of his beverage. "And all of this was so I could go on to be Lucifer's vessel."

Vader could feel Sam's self-loathing radiating through the Force. It wasn't pleasant. "The evil angel who wants to destroy all of humanity?"

Sam chuckled again. "That's the one," he said. "Angels need human hosts in order to take corporeal form. And they need to be invited in willingly by the host."

Vader crossed his arms. "You're not planning on being subtle about this, are you?"

Sam's smile was sardonic. "When I first started manifesting powers, Dean asked if I was 'going Darth Vader' on him."

Vader felt a sneer curling his top lip. "So you've been so accommodating out of - what? Pity? A twisted sense of kinship?"

"You give me way too much credit, dude," said Sam, smile dropping away. "I just think you'd be more useful as an ally than a resentful prisoner." He quirked a brow. "Or a corpse."

Vader sensed that those words weren't entirely true. After a few tense moments of silence, he asked, "The woman in the dream - who was she?"

Sam swallowed visibly. "She was the woman that I wanted to marry."

Right. Of course she was. The image of Padme, screaming silently as she burned alive, seemed determined to linger in his mind. "Since you shared your dreams with me, it would appear that your powers are still present."

Sam's shoulders were tense, even though his tone was light. "They're mostly dormant," he admitted. "But soon they'll be gone for good."

"Running will change nothing," said Vader.

"It's not running; it's _fighting_. And it's changed everything before."

Vader found that causing the younger man discomfort brought him no satisfaction. And yet, he couldn't force himself to let the matter lie. "You could fight more effectively if you _used_ your abilities."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Like I said: they come with a price." The glare he gave Vader was full of scathing judgment, though Vader sensed the loathing was still mostly directed at Sam himself. "You know the kind of price I'm talking about, Vader, because you paid it. The difference is, I don't have some messianic destiny to rationalize my selfish, shitty choices. If I fuck up, the world _literally_ goes to hell. So save your 'join the Dark Side' pitches for somebody who doesn't know any better."

Vader's rage bubbled up, but was halted when Sam began to cough violently. When he pulled back the hand he'd used to cover his mouth, blood was dripping down his chin.

He didn't know why the sight of it made his stomach twist. "And this is not a price?" he asked, voice very low.

Sam pulled out a wad of toilet paper from somewhere in his clothing, using it to wipe his face. "I don't mind a little blood," he said, hoarsely. He then stood up, swaying slightly. "Sorry again about the whole dream thing. I'll try not to let it happen again."

After he'd left, Vader reached across the table and grabbed the mug he'd left behind. It smelled amazing, and an experimental sip proved that it tasted even better. Sweet and rich and earthy, with just a hint of bitterness.

However, it failed to settle the knot that had formed in his gut.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second trial approaches, and Vader meets his first demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple chapters take place during an altered version of the season 8 episode "Taxi Driver". Some dialogue is lifted directly from the episode.

Dean was already up when Sam entered the dining hall the next morning, looking worried. "I got a call from Kevin at the ass-crack of dawn," he said. "Dude sounded  _bad_. Insisted that we come to see him in person."

Sam drew in a breath, steeling himself for what he was about to suggest. "...I think we should ask Vader if he wants to come with us."

Dean looked incredulous. "To see  _Kevin_?"

Sam nodded, his tone getting a little defensive. "He's got powers, Dean. He could be helpful."

"Yeah, Sammy:  _evil_ powers. Because he's a goddamn  _supervillain_."

"That's true," Sam conceded. "But they're not  _our_ kind of evil. No demons or monsters involved. I mean, as long as he's stuck here, he has a damn good reason to fight for our team."

"This is a guy who stood by and  _watched_ while his boss gave the order to blow up a planet, Sam. You think he gives a crap about the fate of humanity?"

"I do, actually." Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Not because he's compassionate, but because he hates disorder. Can you think of anything in the universe that embodies chaos more than  _demons_?"

Dean made a face. "You have to know that we can't trust him."

"I think we can trust him not to screw himself over," said Sam. "And he needs our help, Dean - whether he likes it or not."

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. If he agrees to come, I won't get in his way. But he'd better keep his mind mojo the hell away from Kevin."

"At least we know for a fact that he won't  _eat_ Kevin," Sam pointed out, his annoyance finally getting the better of him.

Dean scoffed. "Oh come the hell on, Sammy. Benny isn't even the same  _level_ as Vader!"

Dean wasn't wrong, of course. Benny was a small-time nobody vamp. A monster in only the literal sense. But Sam also wasn't wrong that Vader didn't eat people, which - okay. It was a low bar. But it was  _something_.

"I'll go talk to him," said Sam, deciding to drop the whole thing. He stopped by the kitchen to fry up and bacon and eggs beforehand, though, and added two thick slices of buttered brioche toast.

He grabbed an apple from the fridge for himself.

* * *

Maybe it was Sam's peace offering of breakfast, or maybe Vader really was just becoming stir-crazy - but the Sith Lord actually did agree to join them both on their visit to Kevin. Much to Dean's chagrin.

If the man was curious at all about who Kevin was and why they were going to see him, he made no show of it. Instead, he spent the entire ride over with his eyes closed, not saying a word.

Meditating, Sam guessed.

Kevin looked haggard and sickly when he opened the door, He was holding a fruing pan in a white-knuckled grip, and immediately frowned when his blood-shot eyes fell on their guest. "Who the hell is this?"

"He's with us," said Dean. "What the hell is with the SOS?"

"It's Crowley," Kevin answered, his eyes crazed and feverish. He vacated the doorway, allowing the three older man through.

"Crowley?" asked Sam, surprised. "What about him?"

"He's in my head!" Kevin exclaimed, brandishing the frying pan. "Do you have any idea what that  _means_?"

Dean scoffed. "It means that you need to up your anxiety meds. If Crowley knew where you were, he'd do a hell of a lot more than just mess with your head."

"And if he was in your head," Sam added, "then he'd definitely know where you are." He glanced around the structure, frowning. "Where's Garth?"

Kevin blinked blearily, like the question didn't quite register, then said: "On a case, or at the dentist. I- I dunno. I haven't heard from him."

"Okay," said Dean. "So what do you want to tell us that you couldn't say over the phone?" The pan that Kevin was holding came dangerously close to hitting him on the shoulder. "And would you put the frying pan down, please?"

With a huffed-out breath, Kevin put the pan on the stove they were all standing next to. "I'm not saying until you tell me who the new guy is," he said, glancing warily at Vader.

Sam threw his own glance Vader's way, to see if he'd introduce himself. But the Sith Lord remained silent.

Dean decided to take the initiative. "Oh, this guy? He's Darth Vader."

Kevin blinked again. "Like, Dark Lord of the Sith, 'Luke I am your father' Darth Vader?"

"Yup," said Sam.

"It's a long story," added Dean.

Vader glared at all three of them.

Kevin's eyes lingered on the Sith Lord, then turned to Sam and Dean, then back at Vader. Sighing, he said, "Okay, yeah. Whatever." He swallowed visibly. "It's not like that's any more messed up than anything else in my life." With a twist of his mouth, he asked: "Can you use the Force to find out if there's somebody in my head?"

Vader frowned as he gazed at Kevin. Sam noticed for the first time that his eyes were blue. "Your mind in inaccessible to me," said Vader, at length.

Sam figured that it was a prophet thing.

"So?" prompted Dean. "What's the scoop, Kev?"

Kevin let out a heavy sigh. "I translated the second trial from the tablet."

A grin spread across Dean's face. "You - crazy prophet, you! Nice work!"

Kevin was suddenly tense again, his lips thin and pale. "And if Crowley's in my head, he knows!"

"He's definitely not in your head, Kevin," said Sam.

Vader snorted. "The boy may well be correct."

"Oh really," said Dean, shooting him a glare. "Wanna share with the class, your Evilness?"

Vader rolled his eyes. "If this Crowley truly has the ability to enter the minds of others, and has even the most rudimentary grasp of strategy, then he could be holding back for any number of reasons."

"Like when you let the Millennium Falcon escape so that it would lead you to the Rebel base," said Sam, thoughtfully.

Vader actually gave him a half-smile. "Precisely." He turned his attention back to Kevin. "Does this 'second trial' involve a situation that would be advantageous to the one you fear?"

Kevin swallowed. "The trial is rescuing an innocent soul from Hell and delivering it unto Heaven," he said.

"Huh," said Dean. "I hate to admit it, but Vader has a point."

Sam felt panic start to crawl up the back of his throat. "Wait. You mean we actually have to  _go_ to Hell?"

"I don't see how else you'd manage to mount a rescue," replied Kevin.

Sam let out a breath through his nose, trying not to show too much of his own anxiety on his face. To Vader, he explained, "Crowley is currently the ruler of Hell." He frowned. "But he's been pretty desperate to get the Demon Tablet. If he could just figure out what was up by getting into Kevin's head, he wouldn't bother with that. I'm not even sure how he'd be able to get into anyone's head without outright possessing them."

"Why does he want this 'Demon Tablet'?" asked Vader.

"Why the hell do  _you_ care?" said Dean.

Sam shot Dean a dirty look, then answered: "It's basically the manual on how we can shut the gates of Hell. That's what the trials are for." He got the feeling that Vader didn't really get why that was a big deal, so he decided to expand. "Demons exist to sow chaos and suffering. There's no higher purpose to it - it's just how they get their kicks. They can currently get out of Hell by possessing people. But if we seal off Hell for good..."

"I see," said Vader, crossing his arms over his chest. "So even if it is a trap, it wouldn't impact your decision." He sounded decidedly put-out by the observation, though Sam couldn't think of a reason why.

"It wouldn't," Sam confirmed. "But I don't think it  _is_ a trap." He ran a hand through his hair. "I have no idea how we're going to get into Hell, though, or 'deliver a soul unto heaven'."

Dean smirked. "Guess we'll have to consult an expert."

* * *

Vader could admit to a mild curiosity as he watched Dean Winchester burying a metal box in the ground. The brothers insisted that they were performing a ritual that would summon a 'crossroads demon'.

"They make deals in exchange for people's souls," Sam had explained. Though what kind of deals, and what precisely a 'soul' entailed, he hadn't elaborated on. Vader found that he didn't care enough to ask.

Perhaps he'd use the internet to investigate it later, should this 'demon' prove intriguing enough.

It was mere moments after the box was buried that Vader felt the presence - twisted and  _rotting_. He could taste the wrongness of it in his mouth, rancid on his tongue, and - before he could fully process it - he was falling to his knees, heaving.

"Jesus," said Dean, a grimace in his voice.

"Are you okay, dude?" asked Sam, sounding genuinely concerned.

Vader opened his mouth to answer that he was fine, only to have the last remnants of his breakfast come out instead.

" _Winchesters_ ," said a new voice. It rang with falsehood in the Force, as if its very  _existence_  was a lie.

Vader drew upon his instinctive terror at the  _thing,_ channeled it into rage at his own weakness, and used it as fuel for the Dark Side - steeling himself against the onslaught. With effort, he managed to get back to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

There was a dark-skinned man before them. Or, at least, there was a creature wearing the  _body_ of a dark-skinned man. Vader could see red smoke bleeding out of his eyes, nose, and mouth.

"What happened to the hot chicks?" asked Dean, obnoxious as always.

"I'm out of here," the creature scoffed, only for its terror to flare in the Force as it realized it was trapped.

_Demons exist to sow chaos and suffering. There's no higher purpose to it - it's just how they get their kicks._

Vader had thought that Sam was being melodramatic, before. But he saw now that the younger man had in fact been underselling them by quite a wide margin.

"They're  _abominations_ ," he spat out, voice hoarse.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

"Welcome to Earth," said Dean, for a second time.

Only now did Vader understand the true extent of the statement's irony.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude, courtesy of Charlie, postpones the second trial. Vader is in for quite the shock.

Darth Vader was very familiar with torture.

He'd enacted it himself frequently, of course, but had also been on the receiving end a fair number of times. So he knew what it looked like when somebody  _else_ was very familiar with torture.

Dean Winchester was one such individual.

The detached ease with which he delivered pain - dispassionate and matter-of-fact - made it clear that he had done this many, many times before. As much as any Imperial loyalty officer or ISB specialist.

What Vader couldn't figure out was  _when_ he could've accrued so much experience, given his occupation as a monster hunter.

Vader had acclimated somewhat to the demon's presence, though it was still uniquely adept at finding the holes in his psychic armor. Not consciously, Vader was fairly certain. Rather, it was as if it was in its very nature to slip through the cracks of one's mind. The result was that he was acutely aware of the creature's agony, every time one of the brothers doused it in their 'holy water'.

In truth, he wanted nothing more than to be as far away from the creature as possible, but he'd be damned if he showed such weakness in front of the brothers. Especially after his humiliation earlier.

Much of the information exchanged was opaque to him. Vader could surmise that 'reapers' were beings who handled the dead, for example, but he had no clue what a 'coyote' was.

The only information of value to Vader was the creature's fear of Crowley, preferring death over its master's wrath. His own Inquisitors has felt similarly about  _him_ , after all. And Vader knew this demon was more formidable than any Inquisitor had ever been. Not through skill, perhaps, but certainly in raw power.

Vader was no weakling, but he surmised that he would still have to be...cautious. As much as the prospect rankled. If he died here, he would never have the chance to meet Luke again.

And that would be unacceptable.

* * *

Sam was, as always, entirely too forthcoming about the nature of his 'trial', considering that Vader was not actually his ally.

"Reapers take the souls of the dead to their final destination," he explained. "Apparently, some of them smuggle souls on the side."

Vader found himself frowning. "And you plan to trust these...rogues?"

"We don't have a choice," said Sam. "We need to finish the trials before Crowley can get at the Demon Tablet."

Dean's mind was not as easily breached as Sam's, but the elder's irritation was still evident in the Force. If Vader hadn't been annoyed at the younger brother as well, he might've taken some pleasure in it.

Sam himself was of no consequence, of course; it was a simple matter of his martyr complex being all too familiar. Certainly, Vader wasn't  _worried_ for the younger man.

It made no difference to him if Sam Winchester lived or died.

"Sam thinks he can convince you to help us," said Dean, from his position in the driver's seat. "You feelin' helpful, your Lordship?"

"Not particularly," Vader replied. "Though I can't say I  _oppose_ your mission to defeat these 'demons'. I won't attempt to thwart your efforts."

"So much for 'order'," said Dean, directing the comment at Sam.

It was just then that Dean's communication device began to play its obnoxious alert.

Vader felt a shift in the Force as Dean pulled the vehicle over in order to answer it.

* * *

Had it been anyone besides Charlie or Kevin, Dean wouldn't have bothered picking it up. Trial to close the gates of Hell forever? Sorta took priority.

"What's up?" he asked, once he'd answered the call. "This had better be important, Charlie."

"It's kinda end-of-the-world important," Charlie replied. "Though I've gotta admit - it's a weird situation, even by our standards"

"Weird how?" Though Dean had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

"Like, what if I told you that Star Wars is real?"

Dead paused, wondering if he should mention Darth Vader or not. He decided it wasn't something he wanted to explain over the phone. "I'd say that's right up our alley, actually."

There was a sigh of relief from the other end of the line. "Okay, so, full disclosure? I don't feel comfortable trying to explain any of this over the phone." Nice to know he wasn't the only one. "Where are you guys at?"

"Don't worry about it," said Dead. "We'll come to you."

She wasn't too far away, considering how huge the United States were, but it would still take a good four hours of driving to get there. And doubling back around to go to the bunker would've added on an additional two. So Vader was tagging along.

It was kinda Vader's problem, anyway. But the thought of being stuck in a car with the dude for that long was pretty far down on the list of shit Dean ever wanted to do.

"What did she say?" Sam asked, once Dean had hung up. They'd both gotten out of the car, taking the opportunity to stretch their legs and get some

"Looks like we're not the only ones with a Star Wars problem," Dean replied. "I think we're gonna have to postpone the second trial by a couple of days."

Sam frowned. "I guess the trial isn't going anywhere."

"She said it was a potential apocalypse scenario. I don't think she'd bullshit about something like that."

Vader was still in the back seat. Dean didn't know or care how much of the exchange he'd overheard.

"Something's come up," he told the Sith Lord, once he was back in the driver's seat. "We have to take a detour. Probably has to do with you."

"It is the will of the Force," Vader responded. "I suppose I can take some solace in the fact that putting up with you has served a purpose."

Dean rolled his eyes, started the ignition, and turned on the radio.

* * *

They arrived at the designated rendezvous point after a long, awkward drive. It was an empty clearing in the middle of nowhere.

Well, not completely empty. There was an orange lady with head tentacles and big-ass horns waiting for them, as well.

"Dude..." said Dean, staring wide-eyed at the petite yet somehow imposing figure. "That's an  _alien_."

"A togruta, actually," said Sam, sounding pretty bamboozled himself. "Like Master Shaak Ti. From the Jedi Council."

Dean looked askance at his brother, bemused. "You know way too much about the Prequels, Sammy."

Sam shrugged. "I liked them."

"You  _would_ ," said Dean. Sam had even worse taste in movies than in music. Hell - maybe it was Sam's inexplicable love for the Prequels that had been making him act all cozy with Vader. Speaking of Darth Whiny Bitch...

Dean shifted his attention to Vader, who was staring open-mouthed at the alien chick. Like he was seeing a ghost.

"You know her," said Sam, preempting Dean pointing it out himself. Though Dean would've done it with way more pizzazz.

"She's  _dead_ ," Vader said, his dumbfounded expression morphing into a scowl.

"Just like Obi-Wan is dead?" said Dean, smirking. "Did you also stomp on  _her_ empty clothes like a dumbass?"

"She doesn't look like a Force ghost," noted Sam.

"I  _cremated_ her  _corpse_ ," said Vader. "She did  _not_ pull the same trick as Obi-wan."

"That was a false memory I implanted," said a feminine voice. The alien chick had moved closer while Dean wasn't paying attention. "Hello again, Chosen One."

The color drained from Vader's face.

"I thought it important that you believe my vessel to be dead," she continued, voice soft and even. It reminded Dean of Castiel. "The manner is which you were thwarted would've surely led you to pursue her ceaselessly."

"You're an angel," said Sam, eyeing her warily.

"No," she replied. "I am akin to them, and yet separate."

"What she is," Vader interjected, "is a  _parasite_."

She tilted her head slightly to the side. It was such a Cas-like gesture that Dean had to do a double-take. "You are the one who used my essence to revive her, Chosen One. You know best of all that she is no prisoner of mine." Her eyes narrowed slightly - something like anger flashing within them. "She has granted me control of her own volition. When she wishes to come forth, I will relinquish it."

Realization dawned on Sam's face. "Holy crap," he said. "This is your apprentice, isn't it?"

Well, that made sense. "No wonder she doesn't want to talk to you," he shot at Vader. "Assuming that whatever's using her as a meatsuit isn't lying."

"It matters not if you believe me," said the 'whatever'. "You are interlopers."

"...Are you the one who brought me here?" Vader asked, more freaked out than Dean had ever seen him before. That was counting when Cas had used angel mojo to heal him, and the first time he'd encountered a demon. Which had been earlier that day.

If Vader had been anyone else, Dean might've felt a bit sorry for him.

"No," she replied. "I do not know for certain, but I think my brother is responsible for both of us being in this realm."

"Let me guess," said Dean, seeing how Vader's face became even paler. "This dude is also supposed to be dead." He shot Vader a quirked eyebrow. "That's, what? Three people you thought you ganked but didn't?"

"Obi-Wan  _is_ dead," said Vader, his tone defensive. "He simply found a way to preserve his consciousness in the Force."

"You know about that?" asked Sam.

Vader scoffed, some of the color finally returning to his face. "I've known of the phenomenon for years. What other conclusion was I supposed to draw when he failed to dodge a _telegraphed strike_  and left a pile of empty robes at my feet?" He snorted. "I suppose 'Force ghost' is as good a description as any."

"You are correct," said the not-angel. "Obi-Wan Kenobi communes wholly with the Cosmic Force."

"The old man always was tenacious," said Vader, in a voice that was at once bitter and...something else.

Dean didn't give enough of a shit to try and figure out what that 'something else' was. "This brother of yours is evil?" he asked the possessed orange lady.

"...It is in his nature to be wholly selfish," she said.

"So, evil. Got it."

Her mouth twitched. "In any case, I do not imagine that his plans for this realm are benevolent. He must be stopped."

"I'm sure that's true," said Sam. "But we've got our own problems to deal with."

"As I said: you are interlopers." She turned her gaze to Vader. "He and I are the ones to whom the task must fall." She blinked once. Twice. Three times. Then said, "Ahsoka Tano wishes to come forth."

The warning was kinda pointless, since the change was so obvious. This 'Ahsoka' chick had a spark in her eyes that the not-angel lacked entirely.

"I see that you're alive," said Vader, clearly trying, and failing, to look like he wasn't freaking the fuck out.

"Try not to be too disappointed," she deadpanned. "For what it's worth: I didn't know that she tampered with your memories. I would've asked her to reverse it if I had." She turned to Sam and Dean. "I guess I should thank you two for making sure that he didn't get himself or anyone else in too much trouble."

"No problem," said Dean. "It's been a pain in our asses, sure - but it's our job."

"You speak of me as if I'm a violent child," said Vader, glaring at her.

She raised a brow-ridge at the Sith Lord, letting it speak for itself. She had no eyebrows to speak of, but had stripes of white in their place so that it didn't look too weird.

Dean grinned. He  _liked_ this chick.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. "So you're, um - sharing your body? With the..." He made an expression like he needed to take a dump. "Not-angel?"

Her own expression evened out. "It wasn't like that in my own world. Her presence was always with me, but she was...indistinct. Ever since I've arrived here, though..."

"Different world; different rules," said Sam, thoughtfully.

"Like that time we got trapped in bizarro-Canada," Dean added. "Angels couldn't work their mojo there at all."

If the orange lady was having any trouble following them, she made no show of it. "Whatever caused the change, I agreed to let her use my body when she needed it. She's not a 'parasite'."

Vader looked like he'd just had to swallow his own throwup.

Dean's grin widened, and he held out his hand. "Dean Winchester," he said.

She took the hand and shook it, giving him a small but genuine smile. "Ahsoka Tano."

"Sam," said Sam, who shook her hand in turn. "Where's Charlie?"

Ahsoka looked abashed. "The Daughter told Charlie to leave." She sighed. "I asked her to take control after I sensed that Vader was here. She must have wanted to ensure that Charlie wasn't harmed."

"You  _asked_ her to?" demanded Vader, sounding outraged. Dean had to agree.

"It's been my experience," said Ahsoka, tightly, "that unexpected run-ins with you tend to end in lightsaber duels." She eyed him up and down, frowning. "Though I guess that wouldn't be an option this time."

Vader jerked his head at Sam and Dean. "Their pet 'angel' appears to have adopted my saber."

"I've been wondering about that," said Sam.

So had Dean, if he was being honest. What was even the point of having to put up with Vader if you didn't get to mess around with his lightsaber? He'd have to ask Cas about it. Whenever the hell the angel decided to get in touch again.

"And with no Ilum to plunder for a new crystal," said Ahsoka, a definite note of bitterness entering her voice. "I guess you'll just have to strangle me like one of your underlings."

"My reputation precedes me," said Vader, with something like amusement.

There was a flash of pain on Ahsoka's face, before she schooled her features into what Dean figured was Standard Neutral Jedi Face. It was eerily similar to Standard Haughty Angel Face. She reached down to her belt and unclipped a metal tube, tossing it to Vader.

"It won't help much against the Son," she said, "but this planet holds other dangers. I worked hard to get that cyrstal from one of your minions, so don't lose it."

Understanding dawned when Dean caught sight of another metal tube still hanging at her side. "You're giving him a  _lightsaber_?" he asked.

Vader was equally dumbfounded, blinking down at the weapon like he couldn't quite believe it was there.

"He's probably the only person who can kill the Son," she said. "If he dies, your world is doomed."

Sam frowned. "If that's the case, then why did the 'Son' bring him here in the first place?"

"I can't say for sure," Ahsoka replied, with a shake of her head. "My guess would be that he needs a vessel, like the Daughter does, and Anakin is his only option."

Vader's attention snapped back to her, glowering. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ahsoka cut him off.

"You already gave me the 'Anakin Skywalker is dead' speech. There's no need to repeat it."

Vader's glower only deepened. "After this is done, and I have my own saber back, we will finish what we started on Malachor."

Dean wasn't sure what he was expecting from Ahsoka, since she had the whole Jedi poise thing down pretty good. But what she delivered cemented her firmly onto Dean's list of Most Awesome and Hottest Chicks from Outer Space. She even bumped Ripley out of the top spot, which was no small feat.

"Go fuck yourself," she spat, glowering right back, then turned to walk away. Before she was out of earshot, though, she called back, "We can cover more ground if we search for the Son separately. Is it too much to ask you two to make sure he doesn't use that thing to kill anybody he shouldn't? I'd rather not have to purify the crystal again."

"Not a problem!" Dean called back, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. "Say hi to Charlie for us!"

Vader's grip on the lightsaber was so hard that his knuckles turned white.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader self-medicates in the wake of their encounter with Ahsoka. Sam provides him with reluctant company, and sees a side of Vader that leaves him feeling unsettled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Alcohol Abuse tag finally becomes relevant.

"Alcohol," said Vader, once they'd settled in at a motel for the night. It was the first word he'd said in over two hours.

"Excuse me?" asked Sam.

"I require copious amounts of alcohol," Vader said, slumping down into an overstuffed, moldy-looking armchair. "I presume you have access to it."

"Obviously," said Sam. "I'm just surprised that you're asking. Don't you normally just - meditate, or something?"

"Normally," Vader ground out, "my former apprentice doesn't come back from the dead while  _voluntarily possessed_  by some kind of _Force god_. Who, I might add, is  _also_ meant to be dead."

That was a very good point. "I'll get you some whisky," said Sam, exiting the doorway to go track down a liquor store. Which wasn't hard, considering the caliber of the motel.

Sam returned with a bottle of Black Velvet and a shot glass, the latter of which Vader ignored. He drank straight from the bottle instead, his face screwing up as he swallowed. It was clear that he wasn't doing this for the taste.

He turned to leave Vader to it, but felt a tug on the back of his jacket. Sam was confused for moment, wondering how Vader could've reached that far, before he remembered that the Force was an actual thing.

Sam tried to walk a few more steps, only to be tugged yet again - more forcefully, this time. He let out a sigh. "You know, if you want me to stay with you while you drink, you could just  _ask_."

Vader didn't ask. Instead, Sam felt yet another tug on the back of his jacket. Rolling his eyes, he gave up and returned to room's 'sitting' area, taking a seat in the other disgusting airmchair.

They sat there in silence while Vader drank his way down the bottle. A couple of times, Sam stood up to try and get his laptop from the room next-door - the one that he was sharing with Dean - only to have Vader use the Force to pull him back down into the seat.

It was only after a third of the amber liquid was gone that Vader finally spoke. "This is the second time that Snips has shown up alive when I thought she was dead," he said, staring down at a random spot on a dusty coffee table.

"Snips?" Sam asked.

Vader blinked blearily. "Ahsoka, I mean. Snips is what-" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's what Anakin called her."

A nickname, then. Sam didn't point out that Vader apparently still called her by it often enough in his own head that it slipped out when he was drunk. That seemed like a good way to end up strangled.

"It's such a relief, for a few seconds," Vader continued. "Until I remember that she's joined the Force-damned  _rebellion_. I stood by her. When everybody else had abandoned her, I stood by her side. And  _this_ is how she repays me." He let out a truly bitter laugh. "Not that it would matter if I  _could_ somehow convince her to join me. Sidious would never allow it. She knows too much."

"That's rough," said Sam, feeling like he had to say  _something_.

"Rough," Vader repeated, snorting. "Yeah, that's one word for it." He took another swig from the bottle.

There was a moment of awkward silence, where Vader scowled down at that same spot on the table. Then, he said, "She hates me now." His words were starting to slur. "No, not even - she doesn't  _hate_. I trained her too damn well for that. She just - she just thinks I'm another obstacle. Like Ventress. Or  _Dooku_." The way he spat the name made it clear that Vader didn't hold his predecessor in very high regard.

Admittedly, the guy had cut off Vader's hand, so that made sense. Sam had no idea who 'Ventress' was, though. Some other Sith? Maybe he'd ask Vader later, when he wasn't so...emotional.

"You still care about her," Sam said, choosing his words carefully. "Do you really have to kill her?"

Vader's slumped back, resting his head against the back of the armchair. "You said it yourself, remember? Power takes  _sacrifice_. Besides," his head lulled to the side. "If I didn't do it, Sidious would just do it himself. And I'm not gonna leave her fate up to  _others_." He shifted forward agan, glaring at Sam with glazed-over eyes. They were blue, Sam noted. "You think I  _enjoyed_ it, Sam? That it was  _easy_? It fuckin'  _sucked_." He grimaced, putting a hand over his eyes. Was...was he  _crying_? "And I didn't even do it for real! But it feels - it still  _feels_ like I did. I can remember what it was like to watch as the life drained from her eyes. Just like-" he cut himself off, voice hitching.

Sam knew he was talking about Padme.

It was a surreal experience, to see all the affected formality of Vader's speech fall away in his drunken rambling, complete with profanity. His accent had even gone from something like Mid-Atlantic to something like Midwestern. As if he'd actually grown up in a town like Thermopolis, Wyoming, rather than just being summoned there one day by some evil angelic being.

Though, Tatooine  _was_ kind of like the Star Wars equivalent of Wyoming.

"Stop  _thinking_ so damn loud," Vader groused, the hand dropping away to reveal that his eyes were indeed wet. "I hate that you know her name. That you know-" He let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "I can't believe that I haven't killed you yet. Where the hell even  _is_ Wyoming?"

"Um..." Sam swallowed. "It's the state that we first found you in."

"You think  _that's_ what Tatooine is like?"

"I mean, not  _literally_ ," Sam said, feeling a bit defensive. "I was thinking more in terms of obscurity."

"...I guess it It kinda works, if you put it that way."

There was a long, awkward pause, and then: " _Are_ you going to kill me?"

Vader huffed out a sigh. "No, okay?  _No_. Mission accomplished, Sam. You've won me over!" Sam was about to object, but Vader cut him off, wagging a finger in Sam's direction. "Don't even bother trying to deny it. You think I'm an idiot? I have  _Sheev Palpatine_ for a master. I  _know_ when I'm being manipulated."

Sam blinked. "His first name is  _Sheev_?"

Vader rolled his eyes. "Point being, Sam - you're right: even if you didn't have that angel waiting in the wings, I'd gain nothing from killing you or your brother."

He took a long pull from the bottle.

Sam decided that now was as good a time as any to assuage a bit of his curiosity, since he wanted to change the subject anyway. "So...what did you think about the Death Star?" It had always struck Sam that Vader had seemed pretty disdainful of the superweapon. He'd gotten into heated online debates about the exact nature and extent of that reluctance, when he'd been younger.

Vader set the bottle down with a clack, wiping his mouth. "Waste of time, waste of resources, and it forced me to put up with Tarkin and Krennic entirely too often." He smirked. "But I still supported its construction, because I foresaw that it would lead to my Master's downfall."

So, Vader  _had_ known it was a bad idea...which was  _why_  he'd supported it. And Sam could even concede that he hadn't been wrong - the Death Star's completion had indeed signaled the beginning of the end for Palpatine. Sam considered pointing out that it had also ended up with  _Vader_ dead, but decided that it probably wasn't the best idea. Neither, he imagined, was bringing up the whole matter of Alderaan's destruction.

"I know Tarkin," he said instead. "But who's Krennic?"

Vader looked like Christmas had come early. "They didn't have him in the holos?"

"Nope," replied Sam, not bothering to correct Vader's word-choice.

Vader suddenly laughed, hard enough that he doubled over, putting his face in his hands. After catching his breath, he said, "Oh  _Force_  - he'd  _hate_ that. I can just see the look on his face!"

"I take it you don't like him very much."

Vader let out a breath, all mirth draining out of him. "Krennic was in charge of constructing that technological terror, and he exemplified everything that was wrong with Imperial leadership. Narrow-minded, arrogant, and obsessed with his own position. Tarkin was arrogant as hell, too - but at least  _he_ had the competence to back it up." His eyes got a far-away look. "Like, this one time, Krennic came to Mustafar to make demands of me like I was his  _servant_. So-" Vader grinned. The expression was a bit manic. "So I strangled him, because otherwise he would've never shut up, and I said 'be careful not to  _choke_ on your aspirations'!" He laughed again, then - big, full, drunken belly laughs.

Sam, for his part, was less than impressed.

"Oh come on, Sammy!" Vader wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. "That is _solid wordplay._ "

"It's  _terrible_ ," said Sam.

"Yeah," Vader agreed. "That's why it's great! Think of all these self-important sleemos, pissing their pants because of big, scary Vader, and then I toss out a shitty pun. It never gets old!"

"I guess that everyone needs a hobby," said Sam. "And it's 'Sam', not 'Sammy'."

" _Dean_ calls you Sammy," Vader pointed out. Sam could swear that his tone was almost...pouty?

"I've told him not to for years."

"But it suits you so much more than Sam!" Vader insisted, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

It was the same expression that Sam had seen on Dean's face a million times, and the familiarity of it hit him like a blow to the gut. It had been nagging at him since the drunken ranting had begun - this weird sense of deja vu. And now, suddenly, he realized what it was.

Sam was getting a glimpse of Anakin Skywalker, tonight - and Anakin Skywalker? Was eerily similar to Dean Winchester.

"No wonder you hate him so much," Sam murmured.

"Oh  _fuck no_ ," said Vader, starting up with the finger-wagging again. "I am nothing like that perverted, obnoxious little shit. And stop calling me that  _damn name_  in your head!"

Sam felt like he was treading on dangerous ground, so he didn't say anything.

"I mean, not even  _Anakin_ was that bad," Vader continued. "Obnoxious, I'll grant you. But I was never  _that_ much of a pervert, even when I still had all my junk."

Sam's eyebrows shot up.

Vader snorted. "What, Sammy? You think somebody takes a bath in lava and comes out with their dangly bits? After twenty years, it's only natural that it'd take some time to readjust to being anatomically correct. Thanks again, Obi-Wan!" He cast a look around the room, eyes narrowing. "You know, I bet he's watching us right now. Judging. Even though he was always the bigger drinker. He used to make excuses to go to cantinas on missions all the time, then throw a few back in the name of 'blending in'." His mouth twisted. "He's definitely watching us, Sammy. But he won't say anything because he's a FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

Sam actually jumped in his chair at the sudden shift in Vader's volume.

Vader didn't seem to notice. "Speaking of in-tact genitals," he said, "I have to go take a piss."

"Dude," said Sam, making a face. "TMI."

Vader stumbled to his feet. "I don't know what that acronym means, and I don't care."

Sam let out a sigh as Vader made his way to the on-suite bathroom, once more hit with the sheer absurdity of this whole situation. A few minutes later, he heard the sounds of violent puking, which was when Dean decided to make an appearance.

Dean looked at the half-finished bottle of whisky, then to the bathroom door, where the sounds of puking were coming from, then back to Sam. "So," he said. "Ani got shitfaced. I'm almost sorry I missed it."

"You're really not," said Sam, trying hard not to think about dicks, lava, or any combination thereof.

"No filter when he's drunk?" Dean guessed.

"Among other things," Sam confirmed. "I...should probably go check that he's okay."

"He survived taking a bath in lava, Sammy. I think he'll survive a little alcohol poisoning."

Jesus - even the  _phrasing_ was the same. Sam felt a little dizzy as he stood. "I'm more worried about how much of a hazard he'll be with a bad hangover."

Dean considered for a moment, then said, "That's a good point. He's gonna be even bitchier than usual." He grinned. "You can go hold his hair back and then paint each other's nails!"

Sam was too unsettled to get annoyed. "Why are you even here?" he asked.

"You kidding, dude? I wanna get a look at the lightsaber!"

Vader must have heard him, because the lightsaber in question was suddenly zooming through the air, right past Dean's nose. The bathroom door slammed shut once the 'saber had zoomed inside, though Sam could still hear it clacking as it fell to the floor.

"I think that's a no on the lightsaber," he said.

"Son of a  _bitch_ ," Dean replied, before he left Vader's room.

Sam made his way to the bathroom and knocked lightly on the door. "You okay in there, dude?"

"I'll be fine," came the slightly muffled reply. Though the words were somewhat undercut by a fresh round of heaving.

Sam pushed out a breath between his lips. If Vader had been anyone else, Sam might've suggested that they take him to a hospital. But Dean was probably right that alcohol poisoning wouldn't be enough to kill him. Besides - Sam really wasn't keen on the idea of a drunken Vader around so many potentially chokable people. "I'll get you some water, okay?"

His only reply was the sound of more vomiting.

Sam left him to it.


End file.
